A Place For My Head
by InsideAwayXtreme
Summary: Jeff is sick of the way Vince is running the WWF and goes into his office to tell how he feels. How will this be resolved, or will Jeff leave his dream, the WWF?


I watch how the moon sits in the sky on a dark night  
  
Shining with the light from the sun  
  
The sun doesn't give the light to the moon assuming  
  
The moon's gonna owe it one  
  
Jeff knocked softly on the wooden door. "Come in" a voice answered, muffled by the thickness of the wood. Jeff took a deep breath and pushed on the brass handle. "Ah Jeff Hardy! And what can I do for you today young man?" Mr. McMahon asked politely, covering up his surprise at seeing his young, colorful, shy superstar knocking at his door.  
  
"Well, Mr. McMahon, I'd like to talk to you about something." Jeff precariously answered, walking up to Mr. McMahon's desk and sitting down in the plush chair.  
  
"Go on." Mr. McMahon motioned.  
  
Jeff sighed. 'Here goes', he thought. "I need some time off."  
  
"I see." Mr. McMahon said. "And why is that?"  
  
"I just need a break from all of this. You know I need to go home to recharge and with all these new demands you've been placing on me, it's just impossible for me to continue at this pace. I feel really pressured and it's gotten to the point where I don't feel I can handle it" Jeff answered, looking up at Mr. McMahon.  
  
"Jeff, I'm sorry if you feel that this is hard. If this was easy, everyone would be here. But you're the WWF Hardcore champion. I pulled a lot of strings and pissed off a lot of people to put you over. I'm surprised that you're even approaching me on the subject because you know as well as I do what I had to do to get you to where you are. Don't tell me now you don't want this because I know you do."  
  
Jeff started to get angry. He felt his face flush. He bit his lip to keep from snapping back at Mr. McMahon. Who the hell does he think he is? He's not out there every night getting thrown through tables, or getting whacked with trash cans. I've done every damn thing he's asked me to for the last 2 months. 'Jump off the set, get hit by a car, dive off a semi truck'. And every damn time I smiled and nodded. If he could only see the bruises on my back right now. Jeff thought. That son of a bitch. But he kept quiet.  
  
"And furthermore, Jeff, now that I think about it, I did want to talk to you about your performances as of late." Mr. McMahon continued, both surprised and appalled at Jeff's request. Oh no he doesn't Jeff thought, starting to fidget he was getting so angry. "Your performances have been very sloppy as of late. Your matches include the same moves, the same acting; they're carbon copies of each other. And even your wrestling skills have seemed to declined. Your moves have gotten sloppy. I think you've lost your focus as of late and I wanted to discuss this with you because I am far from satisfied."  
  
  
  
It makes me think of how you act to me  
  
You do favors then rapidly  
  
You just turn around and start asking me about  
  
Things that you want back from me  
  
"Excuse me? I don't mean to sound ungrateful Mr. McMahon, but—" Jeff began precariously.  
  
"Then watch what you say Jeff. We don't need this to turn into anything it doesn't need to." Mr. McMahon sternly interrupted.  
  
I'm sick of the tension  
  
Sick of the hunger  
  
Sick of you acting like I owe you this  
  
"I, I just---well.." Jeff began. He took a deep breath, and looked up at Mr. McMahon, staring into his eyes with his own. "I don't owe you anything." Jeff said calmly and coolly.  
  
Mr. McMahon leaned forward in his chair and leaned over his desk, so his face was inches away from Jeff's. "What did you say?" He asked, pronouncing each word as if it hurt his mouth to speak them.  
  
Find another place to feed your greed  
  
While I find a place to rest  
  
"You heard me Mr. McMahon. I'm not going to be your puppet anymore. I'm not some action figure you can throw into any ring any time without any worries. I have feelings and pains and I bust my ass a lot more than half the guys here and you know it. I'm not saying that I'm not appreciative of our relationship, because I am. But I don't owe you anything and unless you stop treating me like a painless, brainless action figure in your toy wrestling ring, you're going to have to find a new Jeff Hardy to sell your merchandise, make those girls scream, and find someone willing enough to do half the shit I pull out there every night just because you ask me to." Jeff paused as he finished, realizing the implications of his words.  
  
"Well Jeff" Mr. McMahon began after several minutes of silence. "It appears that we have a problem here. I think that you're being ungrateful. I have provided you with your dream of being a WWF superstar, given you glory and fans with your brother, as well as built you a stable, successful singles career in which every single fan watches every movement you make, absolutely afraid to blink in case they miss an amazing move. You have it all. You've got all the money you'll ever need, any fan, female or male for that matter, will sleep with you in the blink of an eye. I've done nothing less than given you your childhood dream. I don't understand what you're not happy with Jeff."  
  
  
  
I wanna be in another place  
  
I hate when you say you don't understand  
  
You'll see it's not meant to be  
  
I wanna be in the energy  
  
Not with the enemy  
  
A place for my head  
  
"If you don't understand what I'm not happy with Vince, then that's the central issue here. It's not whether or not I enjoy having millions of fans to choose from for my bed, it's the issue of you being a heartless, evil man. You've lost touch with what's important, the safety and the health of your superstars. Without the superstars who bust their ass every night while you sit here in your comfortable chair, you'd have no money, no fame, no WWF. And I think you forget that. And I'm sorry, but neither my morals, nor my body can accept this anymore." Jeff continued.  
  
"Well Jeff, if that's how you feel, then maybe you aren't WWF Superstar material. Maybe you can't cut it around here. Maybe you're just giving up because God knows that's the easy way out of a hard situation." Mr. McMahon retorted back at Jeff's calm words.  
  
Maybe some day I'll be just like you and  
  
Step on people like you do  
  
And run away the people i thought i knew  
  
I remember back then who you were  
  
You used to be calm, used to be strong,  
  
used to be generous, but you should have known  
  
That you would wear out your welcome and now you see  
  
How quiet it is all alone  
  
"God damnit Vince! Are you that stupid? Do you really believe that you can shift the blame on this onto me? It might have worked for everyone else around here, hell you can make anyone feel like a piece of dirt, but I see right through your words. You're driving out anyone and everyone who has some sort of connection with you, some sort of relationship. God forbid people know that you're not the conniving asshole you play on television. Or wait? Are you pushing people away so they don't know the truth? I remember when we first became friends, you were so generous to Matt and I and we ate everything up. We practically kissed the ground you walked on! But you've lost my respect. Everything is about you, and your money, and your fans. That's entirely what the WWF is not about. But you've seemed to forgotten that somehow. And it's going to cost you. Other guys will sit in the locker room and take your bullshit and hope one day you'll notice them, but I'm not going to anymore. I've seen what it's like at the top with Vince McMahon and it's nothing but lies and deception and shifting the blame and I will not be a part of it." Jeff took a breath, preparing to say what he hoped the situation would not allow. "And I'm not going to be a part it anymore. I'm sorry Mr. McMahon, but you've made me lose my desire to wrestle, to perform. You've made me lose faith in you, the WWF and the entire wrestling business." Jeff placed his WWF Hardcore Title Belt on Vince's desk. "This belt is more important to you than I am and I realize that now. Good luck finding someone to make them gasp and hope like I did. I have a feeling it'll be plenty quiet now. Goodbye Vince. Enjoy the shambles and remnants of what you call your Sports Entertainment." Jeff stood up and left, shutting the door behind him with not a backward glance. 


End file.
